


Moving On

by HissHex



Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [17]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, engaged JonMartin, his dad doesnt turn up but its about him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex
Summary: Martin is reminded of his father and wonders why he left.Jon knows everything he puts his mind to, including the address of Martin's Father.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995427
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Moving On

The box was heavy, dusty with age and disinterest. The only words upon the box, said _HIS_ in his mother’s hand. Martin and Jon were sorting the various boxes that had accumulated in their individual homes over the years, moved and then never opened, never sorted. Jon was across the room questioning why he had kept a lot of his Uni stuff (he hadn’t, it turned out, Georgie was just incredibly sentimental). 

  
  


The apocalypse had ended with little to no fanfare, one moment Martin was awake, the next he was waking up in a world that had never seen the horrors that had been inflicted on it. The Institute was little more than a pile of rubble. Jon was still bound to the Eye, not even the destruction of the Institute could stop that, still incredibly powerful, still distinctly not human, but he was coping. He was still the Archivist and people would still come to him to Archive their stories. 

Jon had a little more control over their dreams now. The Eye could have their initial terror but Jon wasn’t having the nightmares that terrorised both him and his victims. It wasn’t perfect, the dreams still happened, but now the statement givers watched with him, rather than being stuck in them. The few statement givers from before  Jon had opened the door to the entities, that he still had contact details  for, had let him know that this was vastly preferable to the alternative. 

Between that keeping Jon busy and Martin still having Peter’s banking details (turns out with no body and how infrequently anybody saw him – no one had actually reported him dead yet – Martin wasn’t taking the risk though and was slowly bleeding the account into one of his own.) they were quite comfortable. Comfortable enough for Jon to propose. 

Well he had tried. 

They had been visiting Melanie and Georgie when Jon had tripped over himself and the little box that contained the ring had skidded under the fridge. Georgie ended up fishing it out and didn’t listen to Jon’s insistence that she not open the box. Her face had lit up with a grin as she had looked at Jon. Martin had been laughing and, according to Jon after the fact, had looked so handsome in the afternoon light that Jon had grabbed the box from Georgie’s hand and proposed there on the spot.

It apparently wasn’t as romantic as Jon had been planning but Martin thought it was perfect. 

He cut through the packing tape with no small amount of apprehension. His mother had never kept anything of his as far as he knew. Threw out school reports and mother’s day cards and craft projects in the same disinterested manner, as long as something about it didn’t upset her, then she would make sure he saw her rip it up or otherwise destroy it before Martin was left to throw  the shattered remains away.  So with the age of the box and the sheer unlikelihood that it contained his own things, it could really only belong to one man. 

Jon looked over sharply. 

“Oh, erm, Martin you might want to leave that one alone, just throw it away. I don’t think you want to see what’s in there.” 

Martin rubbed his thumb along the gap in the tape. 

“Will it hurt me? Physically I mean, will it put my life in danger?” Jon muttered something about dust and mold but eventually conceded that it wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Then I will be fine. I can handle it love.”

And with that, he pulled the ageing cardboard open.

There was a lot in the box to be honest. Most of it useless, old clothes and an amateur rugby trophy. Digging through he found his mother’s wedding dress, ripped and cut, as well as a picture of his parent’s on their wedding day. 

She looked happy, she looked healthy. 

She looked nothing like the woman who he had cared for until her dying breath.

His  father stood next to the unfamiliar visage of his mother. He had been too young when the other man had left to remember him properly. 

Elias had been right. 

Martin did look  _ exactly _ like the man in the photo. 

The man was perhaps a little shorter than Martin, and his hair was shorn a lot shorter than Martin’s curls. They were the only differences though. They looked so in love as they looked at each other.  Martin didn’t notice the tear roll down his face until it splashed against the plastic of the photo’s protective covering. 

A thin arm wrapped around his middle and a waterfall of dark and grey hair fell over his shoulder as Jon kissed his neck. 

“Are you alright? I can look through it if you want, you don’t need to hurt yourself to prove a point to a dead woman.” 

Martin leaned back to get a proper kiss from his wonderful fiance.

“I’m… I won’t say I’m fine, but I want to know more about him, maybe something in here will give me some idea why he left.”

“It wasn’t your fault Martin. Him leaving had nothing to do with you.” Martin spun round in Jon’s arms, tears building in his eyes, his voice croaky from the repressed sobs.

“But what if it was! If there was nothing wrong with me why didn’t he take me with him! Why did he leave me with her Jon?” he cried. Jon just hugged him tighter. There was nothing he could say that could sooth this old, old pain. 

Martin’s tears abated eventually and he returned to sorting through the box, this time with Jon sat snugly in his lap. There was nothing worth keeping and nothing that even begun to explain the man’s choice to leave his young son alone as the only carer of a bitter, ill woman. Martin sighed as he tossed the last item in the box into the rubbish pile, another picture of his parents looking happier then he had ever seen them in the flesh.

Jon reached for his hands and rubbed his fingers into Martin’s palms before bringing them to his mouth for a kiss. His breath was warm against Martin’s skin as he murmured his question into his palm. 

“I could find him if you wanted me to. I could ask the Eye.” It was a hesitant question, Martin still didn’t like Jon using his powers to see things to do with him. It didn’t matter, he had wanted to know why his dad had left him for most of his life. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Jon’s salt and pepper hair. 

“Do it. I want to know.”

  
  


Martin’s father wasn’t that far away in the end. He lived in Kent in one of the little rural commuter towns. The man probably worked in London as well, they might have even walked past each other in the street and  M artin never would have known. He squeezed Jon’s hand as they stood before the house.  There was no car in the driveway and Jon muttered into his ear that the man wasn’t at home. But there was still movement inside. 

He walked up the driveway and knocked on the door.

The woman who came up to the door was happily bouncing a baby on her hip, a grandchild from the look of it, as she greeted them. There was another woman, maybe a few years younger than Martin who peered down the hallway towards the front door curiously. 

“Hello, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh… um, is this the home of Andrew Blackwood?” Martin said, fiddling with his engagement ring. 

“Yes, that’s my husband. He’s at work I’m afraid.”

“Um yes, uh may I ask how long you have been married to your husband ma’am, if that’s not too rude?”

“Odd question? About twenty six years this anniversary, I think. Why?” 

Twenty six years. Only two years after he had left Martin. His father had found a new wife and a new home and had new children while Martin had been stuck with his mother. The woman he saw in the flat was likely his sister. She looked happy. Was this what his life might have looked like if his father had chosen to take him with him? Maybe he would come back someday, maybe get to know her, if she wanted, but right now this was all too much. 

“Oh, no reason. I just wanted to check in. Th- thank you, Mrs Blackwood. I’ll be going now,” he turned to Jon, a pleading look in his eyes, “Jon?” 

Jon nodded and they made their way back to Martin’s car.  Jon slid into the drivers seat, already seeing the tears threatening to fall in Martin’s eyes. The lady shouted out at them, still very confused, as Martin was about to close the door. 

“When Andrew gets back, who should I say was asking after him?”

Martin deliberated and Jon reached over to squeeze his hand. He had to take a deep breath before he could force the words out of his throat.

“Mar- Tell him Martin Blackwood is glad that he is happy.”


End file.
